


Salty Seas

by ThatScreamingBread



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Addiction, Alchemy, Assassination, Blindness, Bravil (Elder Scrolls), Character Death, Child Death, College of Winterhold - Freeform, Coping, Cyrodiil (Elder Scrolls), Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Depression, Domestic Violence, Dragon crisis, Drug Addiction, F/M, Falkreath (Elder Scrolls), Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Imperial (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury Recovery, Khajiit (Elder Scrolls), Mental Instability, Moving On, Nightmares, POV First Person, Personal Growth, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Riften (Elder Scrolls), Skooma (Elder Scrolls), Starting Over, Whiterun (Elder Scrolls), Women Supporting Other Women
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23835019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScreamingBread/pseuds/ThatScreamingBread
Summary: Saraji has done the impossible.  Recovering from a merciless skooma addiction that took the vision from her left eye wasn't easy, but her lifelong friend, Illedia, helped her through it.  Saraji returns the favor by fleeing Bravil by boat alongside Illedia and her three-year old son to escape her abusive husband.Physically and emotionally battered, the two friends now have a new life, the clothes on their back, the money stolen from Saraji's skooma dealer, and two children's lives in their hands.  Illedia seems more than ready to recover and move on with her life, but what of Saraji?  Will Saraji finally shape up, or will the past come back to haunt her?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

6th of Sun’s Height, 4E 197

Thank the Gods. We did it. We left that damned bastard and all the baggage he kept. Ever since 188, it’s been nothing but trouble for us.

Illedia has already forsaken the name she took from him. The family name Xodius holds no more significance to her, nor to I. I owe my life to her. It’s the least I could have done to help her and Arlian out of that daedra of a man’s house. 

It was his fault I got hooked on the skooma in the first place. I never should have taken anything from that racist, abusive, good-for-nothing snake. He and his friend, M’Ajo, liked to beat Illedia whenever they came together for a drink and a few skoomas. Whenever I tried to stop them, they would beat me, too. Until one night, M’Ajo offered me a bottle of skooma. At the price of 10 septims, how could I resist?

I couldn’t restrain myself. Every Middas and Loredas, I would ingest enough skooma to make my tail shake, my head pound, and my whiskers titillate. The way it flowed through my veins, coursing through me like a beam of pure sunlight, it was incredible. Soon enough, I needed two bottles per day. Whenever I was too out of it, I would drop a bottle, usually wine. And every damn time, Illedia took the fall for me. I watched them beat her. Bloody her lip, bruise her face, blacken her eyes.

When Arlian was born, he also became victim to their cruel games. ‘Bring the mead up,’ his father would say. The poor boy didn’t dare refuse. After the first and only time he dropped a bottle of mead, his father swung at him with a broom. I’ll never forget the bloody scrapes left by its rough bristles and the rage I felt, aching to sink my claws into the bastard’s face.

Illedia knew she couldn’t stay. It took the birth of her son to realize that. I couldn’t help her; not while I was still hooked on the skooma. M’Ajo had me wrapped around his clawed fingers. He knew that even if he kept raising the prices of his skooma, I couldn’t stay away. Illedia slipped me tonics and potions whenever she could. She knew I was sick, and I wouldn’t get better if I couldn’t go even a day without a skooma or two.

Eventually, the skooma had stopped showing mercy. I began to cough up blood and suffered the most dreadful aches in my sides. Illedia tried to help as best she could, but the skooma had taken its toll on me. I paid the ultimate price. My left eye lost all functionality in just a single night.

“Please help, Saraji,” Illedia had begged me a few nights ago. Four months of carrying another child of her worthless husband had taken a toll on her and made her anxious. I told her we needed to pack as much food and gold as we could, get a boat, and flee Cyrodiil. I didn’t think we’d manage, but we did. While Illedia got Arlian and gathered comestibles, I snuck over to M’Ajo’s place. The door was unlocked, but his safe wasn’t. It took me a few tries, but I managed to pick it open, and I swiped every single septim. M’Ajo is the heaviest sleeper in all of Bravil, but I still thanked the Gods I was able to sneak out undetected. 

I had one of my distant contacts arrange a small boat for the three of us as a favor he owed me. Arlian, Illedia, and I boated away from Bravil, and away from our old lives. Through the Nibenay Basin, the Corbolo and Reed River, we boated for one very long day. Traversing the Jerall Mountains was the hardest part of our journey, no doubt. But finally, _finally_ , we made it. We had crossed the border into Skyrim. 

Not far from a little town called Falkreath, we found a small cabin in the forest. It took us all day, but we fixed it right up. The bed I’m laying on as I write this entry is surprisingly comfortable for its condition, but a trip to Falkreath to bring in an architect and some carpenters also would not hurt. 

I can hear Illedia softly crying as she sleeps. A nightmare of her useless husband, no doubt. Illedia has been my friend all my life. Getting her away from that wretched man was the very least I could do after all she’s done for me. I’m proud to call Illedia my friend, and building a new life with her and Arlian is the fresh start all of us need.


	2. Chapter 2

8th of Sun’s Height, 4E 197

We continued working on the cabin. Arlian mostly helped by bringing us small tools when we needed them. And, damn her persistence, Illedia worked about as hard as I did. I told her and told her she needs to rest, but she’s always been stubborn. She probably got that from growing up with me. Her stomach grows bigger by the day it seems, bursting with fresh life.

The gold I stole from M’Ajo should last us a short while. Two hundred seventy-three septims is more than some people have, but also doesn’t go very far after a few trips to the market. When I went into town, I only purchased some seeds, potatoes, cabbages, and two hens and a rooster. But the town’s alchemy shop, now that caught my attention. I briefly considered seeing what I could swipe without being noticed, but it is better to keep myself out of trouble for now, especially since I have been in Skyrim for only a few days. The apothecary, Zaria, sold me a mortar and pestle and a simple alembic. I also decided to pick up a potion, one I believe will help Illedia down the road when she gives birth. I don’t have any experience in alchemical practices, but it could be a worthwhile hobby, maybe even a way to earn an honest living. Until I get some ingredients and learn how to use the mortar, pestle, and alembic, this may not come to fruition for a while.

As I carted all our supplies back to the cabin, I stopped to admire the scenery. Skyrim is a cold, unforgiving land, this much is certain. But compared to Cyrodiil, this land holds unspeakable beauty. Watching the sun glistening through the trees of a thousand crisp leaves brings warmth to my heart that nothing in Bravil could ever hope to achieve. My only regret is that I can only behold this immense beauty in my right eye. Damn you and your skooma to Oblivion, M’Ajo.

What worries me about Skyrim is the bandit problem. I do not wish to awaken to a dagger at my throat, and I certainly do not wish for anymore exposure to the wretched skooma. My fur stands up at the thought. Gods, it truly is a miracle Illedia was able to get me off the stuff. Once it’s in your blood, it stays there. It claws at the deepest recesses of your mind. It nags, urges, demands you have just one more bottle.

I feel deeply ashamed of how useless I was to Illedia, especially since I gave her the extra burden of my addiction. For years, she suffered beatings, lashes, Gods know what else. I tried in vain to protect her, but it was no use. If either of those bastards come this way, they’ll have to kill me and weave a rug from my fur before I let them lay even a finger on Arlian, Illedia, or the baby she carries.

On more pleasant topics, I greatly look forward to starting a garden with the seeds I’ve purchased. Until then, we have lots of cabbage and potatoes to keep us fed. And once those run out, we still have a bit more gold, courtesy of our not-so-dear friend M’Ajo, that should buy us as much food as we need until Illedia and I can figure out a way to earn more septims. 

I tire greatly and can barely keep my eyes open enough to finish this entry. Illedia and Arlian are already fast asleep, so I think it is time for me to blow out the candle on my nightstand and turn in for the evening.


	3. Chapter 3

17th of Last Seed, 4E 197

In the time since I last picked up a quill and put it to paper, we have managed to successfully start a small garden growing out front. Illedia sometimes helps harvest potatoes, but I only let her help out for a few minutes or so before I send her to rest. Arlian, however, has been most helpful in the garden. While he can’t lift heavier harvests, he can carry small sacks of potatoes into the house and leaves them by the cooking pot. 

In my spare time, I’ve taken up a bit of alchemy. Mere dabbling, you see. But it is something I enjoy immensely. When I go out to the forest or walk to Falkreath for supplies, I gather flowers, mushrooms, and various other plants I find and mix them together. Obviously, I have a lot to learn, but I’ve managed a few concoctions. Unfortunately, Arlian is a curious boy, and I must keep the mixtures in stoppered bottles on the highest shelf in the cabin, out of his reach. Some of the hens’ eggs have hatched into chicks, and the rest have helped to keep the three of us fed.

Just yesterday, Illedia became paranoid that she had lost the baby. Now, this isn’t out of the ordinary. She’s worried about it a lot the past few months or so, but this time, she looked ready to cry. I talked to her, tried to keep her calm. I promised her the baby would be fine. I even listened to her stomach to reassure her, and sure enough, I felt the child move. 

However, Illedia’s nerves were still…shall we say, jangled. She asked me to go to Falkreath and purchase a book or two for herself and Arlian. Of course, I wouldn’t turn down my dear friend’s request, so I headed to Falkreath and made my purchases. While carrying the books home, I noticed dark storm clouds looming over the horizon. In fact, I had made it home just as it began raining.

Illedia and I talked about the rain and the good it would do for the crops, but a moment later, I noticed she got rather quiet, staring out the window at something. She stepped outside, and just as I got up to urge her back inside, a bulky Nord fellow and a Cathay Khajiit woman entered the house with her. They were both shivering intensely and absolutely soaked by the downpour.

The Nord fellow introduced himself as Joruth, and the Khajiit as Zeneza. The two were both hunting game in Skyrim when the storm took them by surprise. The pair immediately apologized for imposing, but Illedia and I did our best to reassure them. We promised them they could stay with us until the storm cleared and they could get back to their families in Bruma.

Joruth immediately took a shine to Arlian, as he has a son in Bruma who is only a bit older. He even asked Arlian to help him cook some of the game he caught for dinner. Dare I say, it was the best venison chop I’d had in ages. I regretted having only two beds in the cabin, as the two had to sleep in chairs at the table.

When I woke up this morning, Zeneza was at the table mixing ingredients together with a mortar and pestle. I could not believe my eye. The only other alchemist I’d met was Zaria over at Grave Concoctions. Seeing her at the table mixing some kind of potion, I was too curious not to ask Zeneza where she learned alchemy. She had apparently learned it from her wife when they first met, and offered to teach me some of what she knew. She gave me a few pointers about what ingredients would mix well and what wouldn’t, and how to properly sample them without harming myself. 

Zeneza recommended I pick up the Herbalist’s Guide to Skyrim next time I find myself at the market. In addition, she gave me a potion, some kind of healing potion or painkiller, that she says will help Illedia with her birth, as it helped Joruth’s wife with all three of hers.

The rain outside had lessened significantly. Joruth and Zeneza gave us a bit more of the game they had hunted before they left. I’ll need to stop by Falkreath and pick up some more salt to store our food. As for Zeneza and Joruth, I hope they make it back to Bruma and their families safely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to get this uploaded last night since I was swamped with homework and studying for exams. Sorry!


	4. Chapter 4

27th of Sun’s Dusk, 4E 203

I relapsed.

I don’t remember how, but I managed to come into contact with the damned skooma again and could not resist. I am mostly clean, but every now and then I get jittery from withdrawal. Illedia is a miracle worker. These past six years have been a blur. Struggles with skooma, depression, self-loathing. Shame is the king of them all, for it is all I feel nowadays. 

A dragon attacked the cabin recently. Gods, the horror. I was so intoxicated from the wretched skooma that I could barely get out of the burning cabin. I was very, very lucky to have escaped with my life. Lucky for us, there has been an influx of builders-for-hire in the cities, helping with repairs from dragon attacks. If it were not for their help, we would have needed to find a new home.

I admit, it feels strange writing in my journal after so long. The last time I wrote was before Illedia gave birth to her beautiful baby girl, Itennu. She’s the sweetest little thing, that one. She likes to play in the garden with the worms and torchbugs and little things. Arlian has grown into a very able-bodied boy. He’s not the brightest, but he’s a great help when we’re harvesting crops or making repairs to the cabin.

Illedia, quite contrary to myself, has been thriving. She’s told me many times she feels that she’s recovered greatly from the emotional wounds her former husband has left. I can still see one or two scars on her arms and collarbone from when the bastard caught her with a knife, but the important part is that Illedia is happy. I’ve never seen her so at peace before.

Perhaps that is because of a certain someone she stops to chat with at Falkreath’s tavern. There’s a hunter named Valdr who sometimes drinks with her when she heads into town for supplies. She’s admitted she finds him to be a strapping young lad. I’ve talked to him once or twice at the tavern and he seems like a fine gentleman, much better than her swine of a husband back in Bruma.

And to think, I’ve done nothing but waste coin on skooma. I swore to never get back on the stuff, and what happened? Exactly that. I feel much better physically now that I’ve mostly weaned off the skooma, but there are days I don’t know what to do with myself. I often lay awake at night feeling bewildered and lonely, even though my three closest companions are nearby. Gods, I feel so terrible, and I probably will for the rest of my life.

Why can’t I stop being such a waste?


	5. Chapter 5

4th of Evening Star, 4E 203

Valdr surprised us by knocking at our door with a bag of fresh game. In a matter of time, the rich, hearty venison had been cooked and served. After the children were put to bed, Illedia poured us all a tankard of Firebrand Wine. 

I’ve engaged in merriments and debauchery of all sorts in previous years, but this Firebrand Wine was something else. It burned deeply as I knocked back my tankard, almost tingling like a broken bone. By the time my second tankard was empty, I could barely see straight. I went right to my bed and lay down. Gods, my head pounded something fierce. Valdr and Illedia stepped outside a moment later. As curious as I was, I knew to respect their privacy and quickly drifted off to sleep.

I was remarkably hungover when I awoke this morning. While I fixed myself some cabbage potato soup, Illedia told me she and Valdr kissed before he left for the night. It’s safe to say Illedia has moved on from her nightmarish ex-husband.

After breakfast, I sat outside for a few minutes to let the fresh air alleviate my aching head before I headed into town. Zaria was waiting for me at Grave Concoctions so she could give me a few alchemy lessons. I bought some ingredients to take home and continue practicing, but Zaria insisted I have a couple ingredients for free. A student discount, as she put it. She also offered to purchase some of the potions I mixed during the lesson if she saw them suitable for resale. Finally, she suggested I train under a more skilled alchemist, such as Arcadia of Whiterun, or even join the College of Winterhold.

This caught me off guard. At first, alchemy was merely a hobby to me, but as I grew to enjoy it more, I began to realize that this could be a trade for me to take up. Zaria paid me very well for the mixtures I was willing to part with. With the Civil War raging and dragon attacks almost daily, healing potions, painkillers, and potions of fire resistance are absolutely crucial. There are plenty of people who would pay large sums of gold for such potions.

I talked with Illedia. She thinks training under Arcadia is a wise choice and will help me get my life in check. I must admit, however, that I am not as well as I may seem. Constantly laying awake at night with eyes bloodshot from exhaustion, yet unable to sleep. Recurring doubt and immense self-hatred. Occasional nightmares of Illedia being beaten by hordes of drunk, angry men, and waking up from the dream completely unable to move. 

Even now, many of Illedia’s scars have faded, but unfortunately for me, I can still see them in painfully vivid detail and remember exactly how she got each one. The scars on her arms and collarbone from when her husband came at her with a kitchen knife. The scar nestled in her hairline from when the absolute daedra of a man goaded M’Ajo into hitting her over the head with a bottle of wine. The deepest scar, a crescent-shaped one just below her left breast, was one I had not known about until I noticed it as she breastfed Itennu in her infancy.

Illedia should not have wasted time on trying to save me from myself when she could have gotten away sooner. She should have left me to contend with her husband and M’Ajo. Even if they would have killed me, it would have bought her more time to escape to Skyrim with Arlian. If one or both of them come to Skyrim in pursuit of us, I’ll let them kill me before they go after Illedia and her children, no matter how much the thought terrifies me.

But if Illedia thinks going to Whiterun to train under the alchemist there will prove beneficial, she can’t be wrong. Illedia is the wisest woman I’ve ever met with maturity and intellect beyond her years. I’ll start selling more potions to Zaria to pay for the carriage to Whiterun as well as residence, food, and training. With Valdr regularly coming over to assist Illedia with food provisions and childcare, I can relax knowing that she’ll be safe without me nearby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while. I got really busy juggling school, life, and depression. This story has been finished for AGES, but I completely forgot to keep updating it and adding chapters here. So sorry about that. The next one will be up soon.


	6. Chapter 6

17th of Mid Year, 4E 204

It has been six long months. Arcadia has been a strict teacher, but her tutelage has been invaluable. It was she who introduced me to the world of advanced alchemy. Every ingredient was to be crushed into the purest form it could be, and if so much as a tiny chunk was left insufficiently powdered, she would have me do everything again. Tedious, yet rewarding all the same. 

Arcadia also suggested I speak to Farengar Secret-Fire up in Dragonsreach. The guards and nobles seemed wary of a Khajiit within the keep’s walls, though no one stopped me. Farengar Secret-Fire was an even stricter teacher than Arcadia the few times I sought lessons from him. The court wizard was brusque and impatient, watching me work with an appraising eye. Unlike Arcadia, Farengar could afford the more expensive potions I brewed, which I thanked every Divine in existence for. 

What I came to appreciate the most about Farengar was his tendency to leave spellbooks lying about. I know stealing is wrong, but it wasn’t like he would miss them. He prided himself on knowing every spell taught by the College. I was sure after taking a couple spellbooks he would begin to notice, but for the esteemed Court Wizard of Whiterun, the man is as scatterbrained as a giant who’s lost his mammoth.

As I slowly amassed more and more spellbooks, I began to run out of space in the room I rented at the tavern. The problem was solved, however, when the books destroyed themselves after I had read them. I really, really hope Farengar doesn’t notice his missing books…

But in any case, when I was not taking alchemy lessons from Arcadia or Farengar, I was practicing the spells I learned. One evening, locked securely in my room, I cast my hand forth and a tiny, brilliant beacon of light shot from my palm. It was incredible. The light was so small, so delicate, yet it was as if the Twin Moons themselves had smiled down from the heavens.

I cast more and more of the lights, beautifully floating about my room. I was sure someone would see the intense brightness from under the door, but no one came to stop me. I only stopped when I felt myself sapped and exhausted. I surmised this was from the gradual drain on my magicka, the essence I had read about in one of the spell tomes.

Alteration seemed to come somewhat naturally to me. I have yet to try my hand at the other schools of magic, though I do not think I would succeed in mastering Destruction. No, it is difficult enough to complete menial tasks with a blind eye. I can hardly imagine myself aiming a fireball or ice spike properly. Think of the chaos.

Look at me. I opened my journal with the sole purpose of recording one specific topic, and I launch into a ramble about my alchemical and magical studies. 

Today was my final lesson with Arcadia. She sent me home for the day after I completed my final potion: a potion of invisibility. As I was heading back to the Bannered Mare for a good night’s sleep, a courier approached me and pushed a letter with a lavender seal into my hands. Tears fell from my eyes and onto the letter announcing Illedia’s wedding with Valdr in Riften to be held at the Temple of Mara three days from now.

Life could not be better. My lessons have gone remarkably, my future is becoming clearer, and now Illedia is going to marry the man of her dreams. Illedia, my beautiful, kind, smart, and benevolent friend deserves everything she gets. Gods, I’m getting emotional just writing this. I’ll have to get up early tomorrow if I want to make it to Riften in time.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started writing this story around this time last year, but I just now got around to finishing the final chapter. I'll be releasing new chapters every Saturday. I'm extremely rusty since I haven't written Elder Scrolls fanfiction in like five years or so, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!


End file.
